


rouse

by tanyart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren wakes up from a wet dream and Jean is totally on top of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rouse

**Author's Note:**

> For Stel, who prompted my most favorite tag, #ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT a la post-wet dreams.

Eren isn’t sure what wakes him up first – Jean’s elbow in his stomach, or the way he’s slotted up behind Jean, flushed and breathing hard from a lingering dream of wet skin and intertwined limbs.  He moans, quiet and still half asleep but conscious of his arm around Jean, hand somehow wormed underneath Jean’s shirt, and the taste of sweat on the back of Jean’s neck.  It’s all reminiscent of his dream, being wrapped with another body and confined in a cramped, undefined space, but then Jean’s elbow finds his stomach again and Eren opens his eyes.

“Jean?” he mutters, his hand curling into a fist over Jean’s stomach.  He rolls his hips forward on instinct, still seeking something leftover from his dream.  It is only then that he notices Jean’s very solid and very real warmth in front of him.

And also his own erection pressed into the curve of Jean’s backside.

“You finally awake?”

Eren jerks away, hand getting caught in Jean’s shirt.  He pulls off, chest freezing in mortification.  This is the kind of thing he had expected to outgrow – not that it happened _often_ back then, but Eren’s far away from his trainee years now and he feels like there should be _no_ excuse for this.  Not when he’s basically an adult and a captain and has Jean sleeping with him whenever they can manage the time and discretion. 

“Ah, shit.  I’m sorry,” Eren says, not even bothering to lie or hide it away. He plants himself firmly on his back and tries to get his body to behave.  Bits and pieces of his dream are coming back, of grinding down, vulgar words and someone’s desperate hands at his hips.  He can guess what had happened outside the dream.  He tries to steady his voice, but a little shiver runs down his spine.  He still wants it, whatever the dream was.  “Sorry I woke you, I didn’t mean-”

Eren doesn’t get to finish his sentence.  Half the blankets get pulled and Jean straddles him in one easy roll.

“Yeah, well,” Jean says, sitting up and settling his weight over Eren’s hips. There is a raspy quality to his voice, different from someone who would have been roused from sleep.  He grips Eren by the front of his shift, pulling him upwards.  “You did.”

Even in the darkness of the room Eren can see his flushed face and feel how Jean’s body rises and falls with each shallow breath.  The thin fabric of Jean’s pants insinuates that he’s been awake for quite some time.

“How long have you been up?” Eren runs his hands over Jean’s thighs, all along the dark lines of bruises from their belts and straps. 

“Long enough,” Jean says roughly.  He curls inward at Eren’s touch, muscles tensing.  Not in the mood for teasing, he braces both hands above Eren’s shoulders and grinds down, impatient and eager.  “Now hurry up and fuck me.”

Eren bucks up, nails digging into Jean’s skin.  He feels the heat build up in the pit of his stomach. “Our positions, a-ah… might’ve been reversed.”

“Whatever you want.  But just so you know you had your cock pressed against my ass so it’s not my fault if I have specific expectations.”  Jean gaze holds for a moment before flitting to his nightstand.  He shivers, rocking in tiny short starts, and lets out a moan that lasts longer Eren’s.  “It _felt_ like you were having a good dream.  What were you doing to me in it?”

Eren yanks Jean down by the shirt, mostly to get him to stop squirming over him. It’s bad enough that Jean is looking at him, wild-eyed and throat bared to the side so that he can see every swallow Jean takes. “What makes you think I was dreaming about you?”

Jean laughs breathlessly.  He leans in, mouthing along Eren’s jaw.  “My name was the first thing out of your mouth when you woke up.  I’m fucking flattered.”

Flattered and appreciative, apparently.  Eren tilts his head away, biting his lower lip.  He thinks he can stand to wait a couple of more moments.  He hooks his thumbs at the waistband of Jean’s pants.

“Drawer,” he says and pulls.

Jean moves against the motion, reaching towards the bedside table without leaving Eren’s lap.  He slips out of his pants in a slow stretch that’s way too languid and temptingly angled to not be deliberate.  The jut of his hipbone passes by Eren’s eyes, and of course he’d know that Eren would never miss an opportunity to bite down and run his tongue over old scars and fresh zip wire burns.

The bedside drawer opens and slams shut.  Jean sways back into bed, less graceful than before, and kicks the rest of his pants off while pressing the small jar of oil into Eren’s hand.  It takes some more inelegant maneuvering for Eren to open the jar and deal with Jean kissing him from his chest and down to his stomach.  Jean seems to be adamant about staying on top so Eren lifts his hips for his pants to be tugged off, letting out a sharp gasp when Jean’s mouth also makes its way to his cock. 

“Jean, fuck, what the hell...ah-” Eren bumps his head against the headboard and bucks into Jean’s mouth despite his efforts to keep still.  He blindly fists Jean’s hair.  “I thought we were… going to, _ngh_.”

With a low moan that Eren feels rather than hears, Jean eases off, eyes dark and the sides of his mouth all wet.  He licks his lips, shrugging. 

“Can’t help it,” he says, eyeing the opened jar in Eren’s hand and scoots forward on his hands and knees.  The tip of his erection drags lightly up Eren’s abdomen as he settles his arms over Eren’s shoulders.  “Sorry.  Please.”’

“Like you’re really sorry,” Eren mutters while Jean laughs and plants his wet mouth to Eren’s temple.

“You think?” Jean stutters out, laughter turning into a groan when Eren’s oil slicked palm slides down between his legs. He grips the headboard, pressing his forehead against the wood as Eren sucks at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.  “Oh, f- _fuck_.  Just start already.”

Feeling pretty generous, Eren bites down as he presses his fingers into Jean, encouraged by the whimpers and quiet pleas to hurry at his ear.  It goes to show how impatient the both of them are, how Jean doesn’t seem to mind if Eren’s fingers don’t move as much as they should.  It is enough that Jean fucks himself on them, rocking back and forth on his own, the low noises from his throat making Eren’s head swim.

He lets Jean decide when he’s ready, though desperation is making him writhe and use his free hand to jerk off.  His loose fist bumps against Jean’s thigh twice before Jean lifts his head, panting and sloppily kissing Eren while he retrieves the jar of oil and coats his hand.

“Hold on, hold on,” he says, pulling Eren’s wrists away. 

If there had been a smirk in Jean’s voice, Eren doesn’t have the composure to make a retort, and the sight of Jean shakily sitting up on his knees would have stopped him from saying anything anyway.  Jean takes Eren’s cock, slicking it with a few rough pulls, and bears down, closing his eyes and letting out a soft hiss.

Eren whimpers, scrambling to get a hold of Jean’s hips and sit up.   

“Stay down,” Jean says, lowering himself further, and this time Eren can definitely hear how pleased and smug he sounds despite the strain in his voice. 

“Fuck, Jean,” Eren gasps, “Wipe that stupid smirk off your face or I’ll do it for you.”

Jean is barely holding himself up in Eren’s lap but he still leans forward, teeth bared into a grin.  “Then do it for me.”

Which Eren finds is as easy as jerking his hips up.  Jean’s hands fly to Eren’s chest, pressing down as he chokes back a cry and bites his lip.  Eren feels Jean tighten around him and he bucks into Jean again, all uncontrolled movement with the both of them finally out of coherent words to say.

Eren can’t remember a thing about his dream, only that it couldn’t have been like this. Not with the feel of hot skin and sweat between them, the slippery oil spilled on their thighs and slight pain of needing more. Jean’s eyes are alight when they aren’t shut tight, and he’s saying something in a broken voice that cracks–and maybe it is like the dream because the meaning becomes lost again and Eren almost thinks, _no fair_ , before his chest heaves and he comes, every muscle pulling taunt.  He hears Jean make another noise, a soft, desperate whine when he slips out from him.

Still dazed, Eren reaches over, hands clinging to the back of Jean’s neck.  Jean is no longer moving above him but bent over, one hand grasping the pillow at Eren’s head and the other moving up and down in a tight fist around his own cock.  Eren brings his thigh up, feeling his own come drip down from Jean, and feels it even more when Jean ruts against it, gasping.

Eren’s hands stay where they are, grasping at the short strands of Jean’s hair.  He strains upwards for a rough kiss, murmuring Jean’s name until Jean opens his eyes and lets out a tiny sob, shuddering and coming over Eren’s stomach.

“Eren, Eren, Eren,” Jean murmurs back in a half-mocking tone, but he falls into Eren regardless of mess and wraps his arms around him.

Eren lets out a breath of laughter, unable to find himself insulted or embarrassed anymore.

“I’m fucking flattered.”


End file.
